


Secret Santa Gift

by starspangledmeatball



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8994022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmeatball/pseuds/starspangledmeatball
Summary: Steve Rogers is a big time movie trailer producer in L.A. He has the looks, the girl, the house, and the job. However, everything goes downhill when he finds out his girlfriend has been cheating on him. Online, he meets Bucky and they agree to switch houses for the holidays.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my Secret Santa, katie-my-lady.

Steve Rogers, Brooklyn born and raised, had the life everyone dreamed about. He had a great job overseeing all movie trailers. Every trailer he'd ever made had brought a huge turnout and that made him the most sought out producer in all of Hollywood.

He had the house people dreamed about. A huge mansion with all the best appliances.

He had the body. His shoulder to waist ratio landed him in a magazine one year. He worked hard everyday and ate right to keep up his physique.

And then, of course, he had the girl. She was gorgeous and witty and a very successful actress in her own right.

Well… he _had_ the girl.

Last week, he had walked in on her cheating on him with somebody else. In _his_ office. The most pathetic part was that he had agreed to remain friends with her.

"You're pathetic, man," said his best friend Sam. "You know that right?"

Steve scowled into his beer. "Painfully aware."

"Steve, when a girl cheats on you, you're supposed to never talk to her again," he continued. "Not agree to stay friends. Black list the chick already."

"It's not like she's still living with me," Steve argued.

"Listen, man. You need a break," said Sam. "You cut seventy trailers this last year, you have a cutting room in your house, and you tuck your phone in beside you at night."

"Who told you that?"

"Doesn't matter. You need a break."

"This is my busiest time of year, I can't just take off."

Sam snorted. "If you say so."

The pain and anxiety in Steve's chest grew worse in the days to come and Sam's words echoed in his head.

The week before Christmas, at three in the morning, Steve was tossing and turning in bed. He hadn't taken a break in three years. The stress hadn't gotten any better and he was starting to think Sam was right. He needed a vacation.

With a huff, he switched on the bedside lamp and pulled his laptop to him. He shot out an email to his production team.

**Disappearing for a couple of weeks. Enjoy your Christmas break. - Steve**

Now, all he had to do was figure out where to go. He googled places for singles to take a trip and clicked link after link after link.

"Vacation homes," he read aloud. He could do that. Hole up somewhere for a couple of weeks. Read those books he bought but never read. When was the last time he drew something or painted a picture?

He clicked on vacation homes in England and then on the subdivision called Surrey. A picture of a two-story cottage picturesque all covered with snow on a country backdrop. It looked perfect. He read the caption.

_Two stories. 2 bedrooms. 1 1/2 baths. Gas stove. Fireplace. Perfect get away, just two hours from Central London._

Steve made an account and hit the contact button which opened up an Instant Message.

**Srogers1: Hi, I am interested in renting your house. It looks exactly like what I need. I'm wondering if your house is available this Christmas.**

The response came almost immediately.

**B_Barnes653: Hello, I'm glad you're interested. However, I'm afraid my house is only for a Home Exchange**

**Srogers1: What's that?**

**B_Barnes653: It's when we switch everything for two weeks. Houses, cars, etc. I've never done it, but a couple of my friends have.**

**I'm James, by the way. Everyone calls me Bucky though. I'm relatively normal, neat freak, non-smoker, single, complicated wreck**

**Srogers1: I'm Steve. Loner, loser, human disaster.**

**B_Barnes653: Hi**

**Srogers1: Hi**

**B_Barnes653: Where are you by the way? I hope it's far away.**

**Srogers1: L.A. You might have heard of it.**

**B_Barnes653: I've never been there, but I always wanted to go.**

**Srogers1: I gotta say, your house looks swell.**

**B_Barnes653: Thanks, I'm pretty fond of it myself. What's your house like?**

Steve looked around his giant bedroom and chuckled.

**Srogers1: It's nice -- bit bigger than yours**

**B_Barnes653: Not hard to be.**

Steve worked his jaw and continued typing.

**Srogers1: Can I ask you one thing?**

**Are there any women in your town?**

**B_Barnes653: Honestly? Zero.**

**Srogers1: When can I come?**

**B_Barnes653: Is tomorrow too soon?**

**Srogers1: Sounds perfect.**

Feeling happier than he had in a while. Steve booked a first class flight to England for tomorrow afternoon and started packing. He locked everything important into the safe in his closet and texted Sam about the plan.

**Sam: A little strange, but hey whatever works right? See you in two weeks buddy.**

The next morning, he bought a warm winter coat, a pair of leather gloves, and some thick winter boots. He also stopped by Hobby Lobby and got a pack of 16x20 canvases, some new brushes, and oils as well as a sketchbook and charcoal pencils. He could get the liquin and turpenoid in London.

That afternoon, he was on his way to England. He hadn't done something so compulsive in years. Not since college. This was… something new.

Turbulence hit and Steve suddenly remembered why he didn't fly places. Gritting his teeth, he opened up one of the books he bought, but never read and tried to drain it all out.

\---

In England, he was able to buy the liquin and turpenoid like he wanted and then he hired a driver to take him and his luggage to Bucky's place. Jet lag hit him and made him fall asleep on the way there.

"Sir."

With a loud snort, he sat up. "Yeah?"

"Sir, we're here."

Steve pushed up his hat and blinked rapidly to adjust to the brightness. He looked around and saw two walls, a lot of snow, and… no house.

"This can't be it," he scoffed.

"Right, it's just up this lane," said the driver. "The thing is that I'll never be able to turn the car around, so you'll have to walk. Do you think you can do that?"

Pfft. No.

Even so, he got out of the car, slinging his satchel across his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and carry-on duffel out of the trunk and started on the trek to Rosehill Cottage. It was colder than a snowman's ass out here. What was he complaining about? He grew up in Brooklyn. He should be fine with the cold. Oh shit! His feet slid on some black ice, he grabbed onto an overhanging branch and dumped a bunch of snow on his head and down the back of his coat.

Fucking fantastic.

Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah. To forget about his unfaithful girlfriend. When he confronted her about it she insulted him and told him he drove her to it. She could have at least had the decency to break up with him first.

She told him he was married to his job, which he could have admittedly taken a few more days off, but she was always busy too. The few times he suggested they go somewhere she blew him off.

She called him blunt and emotionally constipated. So what if he was plain spoken? Wasn't it easier just to get to the point? He wasn't good with words. He was good with pictures. That's how he conveyed emotion. It was how he won so many art shows. Not that his art ever mattered to her.

Steve stopped walking and realized he made it to Bucky's house. It was just like picture. He smiled and went inside.

The bottom floor was the kitchen and living room, while the top floor was the bedroom and bathroom. It had a lot of character. There were a few photos on the wall along the staircase.

One, he saw, was of three brunets all in military uniforms. The two men stood on either side of the woman and they were all in mid laughter. He wondered which of the two men was Bucky or if he was even in the photo at all.

After he unpacked, he found Bucky's car in the garage and decided to go into town  to get some groceries.

Bucky's car was… _significantly_ smaller than the car he took to get here. He grabbed the keys off the hook by the door and squeezed into the tiny car. He was pretty sure if he tried he could lift this car off the ground.

"I can do this," he muttered to himself. "I can drive on the wrong side of the road. And the wrong side of the car. In the snow."

Town was a couple miles out and pretty straightforward direction wise. Unfortunately, the road was very narrow. He held his breath every time he passed a car. He parked the car as soon as he could and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Praise the Lord."

He entered the store and just started filling his basket with whatever food sounded good. He hadn't eaten since the flight and so now he was starving.

As he was checking out he immediately opened the wine and took a gulp.

"Someone's having a party tonight," the cashier chuckled.

"Oh yeah," Steve laughed. A me party.

All by himself.

Nobody else.

Right.

The drive back wasn't as scary, but that's probably because the swallow of wine calmed his nerves.

Back at home— because home is where your rump rests—he pulled out his art supplies and just started sketching. He soon became frustrated, because nothing was turning out right and it all felt forced.

He tilted his head back against the couch and heaved a large sigh.

Steve Rogers had everything, a narrators voice sounded in his mind. The job, the girl, the dream. This Christmas, find out what Steve _doesn't_ have.

Shouting in frustration, he got up and found a bottle of whiskey. Just one drink to quiet his mind and he'll read some of those books and watch the TV. What did British people watch anyway?

[Half a bottle of whiskey later.]

_"Turn back,"_ the blonde woman on the TV shouted as she cried tears of both sadness and joy. _"Please, turn back."_

_"Did you forget something, Miss?"_

_"Yes,"_ she laughed. _"Yes I did."_

"You go girl," Steve said, stuffing more popcorn in his mouth. "Go get your man."

He shivered. It was absolutely freezing. Seriously, did British people not know that heaters were a thing? He hoped Bucky was enjoying the heating system in his house. Steve was wearing a long sleeved shirt, hoodie, and sweater and he was still cold. He went downstairs to start a fire, hitting his head on the ceiling along the way.

Once he got the fire going, Steve sighed and leaned against the couch thinking about She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He wasn't emotionally constipated. Was he quick to anger? Sure. But that was only when he saw injustice happening.

Sure, he hadn't cried since his Ma died ten years ago, but a lot of grown men didn't cry. It's not like he hasn't felt sad, he just… _couldn't_ cry.

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. This was a mistake wasn't it? He never should've—

A hand pounded against his front door. "James! Open this door! I'm bloody freezing out here."

Confused, Steve got up and headed towards the door. Did Bucky not tell his girlfriend he was going away? The pounding became incessant. He quickly opened the door and the woman hit his chest a few times. She furrowed her brow and looked up.

Wow.

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her hair was a rich brown like chocolate and her eyes were just as brown and warm like bourbon. And those lips. Plump and red as an apple.

"You're not James," she said. Wow she had a nice voice. "Or, I've had more to drink than I realized."

"Uh, no," he chuckled nervously and crossed his arms. "He didn't tell you? We did a home exchange for the holidays."

"Alright, well please move. I am _very_ drunk and I have to pee."

"Shit, sorry." He stepped to the side and closed the front door. He glanced in the hall mirror and fixed his mussed up hair. He looked down and untucked his sweatpants from his socks.

The woman exited the bathroom. "Okay, so back up. You and James did _what_?"

"Home exchange," said Steve. "I really needed to get away and Bucky- er James agreed. Who are you?"

"Peggy, I'm James' sister."

Sister. Good. Wait, what was he doing? He was on the rebound. Did he only have his mind on one thing? They were both drunk.

"Of course James would do a home exchange," Peggy huffed. "He just found out that this tart who was stringing him along got engaged and yet she is _still_ toying with his heart."

"Guess that puts us in the same boat," said Steve. "My girl slept with her coworker behind my back. That's why I'm here, I needed to get away. I hadn't had a vacation in years. I'm Steve Rogers."

"Is that all one word?" she said, quirking up an eyebrow. "Steverogers?"

"Uh, no," he chuckled nervously. "Um… I actually was considering, maybe going back home. I have money, I can pay for Bucky– er James to be in a hotel or whatever."

"Oh, well that's a shame," said Peggy. "Are you leaving right now?"

"No."

Peggy smiled. "How about another drink then?"

Maybe he could stay a bit longer.

Before he knew it, he and Peggy were kissing and it was starting to get a little heated.

"Just so you know," he said. "I don't normally do this."

"Glad to know I'm special," she replied and kissed him again.

"I mean, I may be on the rebound, but you are insanely beautiful and I just wanna. Well, sex is natural right?"

"Mmhm, right," she said. "I'm the one who suggested it."

"Am I talking you out of this?" said Steve, with a cringe. He wasn't exactly the most romantic person.

"Strangely, not at all," said Peggy. "I find you awkwardly charming."

"It's worse when I'm sober."

They kissed a little bit longer and another warning occurred to Steve. "By the way, I'm not good at this. Sex, I mean."

"Oh, come on." Peggy rolled her eyes disbelievingly.

"The last gal I was with pointed it out and a person just doesn't forget a comment like that."

"Maybe you just needed to find the right partner," she whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

There wasn't anymore talking after that.

 

- _The Next Morning-_

Steve scowled at the coffee pot on the tiny counter as flipped all the switches and pushed all the buttons. Peggy leaned over and plugged it in. He blushed.

"Oh, you plug things in over here," he said, with an embarrassed laugh. Peggy laughed with him.

"You know," she said. "Your ex-girlfriend doesn't know what she's talking about."

Despite the awkward conversation to start with, last night had been pretty fantastic in Steve's opinion. He was relieved to know the feeling was mutual.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked.

Her cellphone rang and he picked it up to hand it to her. "T-Tony… sorry. I didn't mean to look."

"I'll call him back. Actually, I have to be going," she said as she put on her coat. "I have to get to work."

"Right." They agreed on a no-strings attached deal, so why was he disappointed?

"You know," she said. "If you decide not to go back home, I'm meeting some friends at the pub. Just so you know, my life is pretty complicated and we agreed not to get involved, but it would be nice." 

He smiled. "I'll keep it in mind. I'm a bit of a mess too."

Peggy put on her red lipstick, kissed Steve on the cheek, and left into the bright, cold day.

He peered out the window and watched her leave with a grin. He never really had a favorite color before. He often found himself partial to blue, but red was quickly replacing that. Inspiration struck him and he ran to get his art supplies, coffee forgotten. He hadn't even bothered to wipe away the lipstick stain as he started the coffee and gathered up his art supplies.

 Steve Rogers wasn't looking for love, the narrator in his head said. But that didn't mean it didn't find him.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes was in absolute heaven. He'd never been in a mansion before and now he got to live in one (with all the greatest technology) for two whole weeks.

He was just calling Peggy to tell her about his time in L.A.

"Hello," she answered.

"Hey, Peg," said Bucky. "How are things?"

"Great, actually. How's L.A. treating you?"

"Ah, it's been swell. I'm having a lot of fun and there'a this really hot woman with eyes that—"

"Don't go getting your heart broken," Peggy warned. "Just last week you were still crying over Dolores."

"I was not!" he lied. "Anyway, we agreed it wouldn't be complicated—" The phone line beeped. "Hang on, I have another call. Don't hang up, I really want to talk to you."

He switched it to line two. "Hello?"

"Hey, Buck," said Steve. "I just wanted to check up on things."

"Can I call you back?" he said. "I'm on the phone with Peggy."

"Oh, are you? How is she? Did she say?"

"I didn't realize you two met," said Bucky. "Hang on, I'll ask." Click. "Hey, Peg. That was Steve on the other line."

"Oh, lovely. How is he?"

"I don't know he wanted me to ask you."

"Tell him I'm fine. I can wait while you finish up your conversation."

Bucky furrowed his brow. "Right." Click. "Hey, Steve. Peggy said she's fine and asked how you were."

"Could you tell her I'm good?"

They… no! "Yeah, please hold." He worked his jaw and clicked for the other line. "I can't believe you slept with the man staying in my house."

"Oh, my God she told you?!" Steve gasped..

"Oh, fuck!" Bucky shouted.

"Oh, fuck!" Steve shouted.

"I am so sorry," said Bucky. "Hold please." He checked to make sure he actually hit the button this time. "I can't believe you slept with the man staying in my house. He asked if there were any women in town and I assured him there weren't."

"Still me," Steve said drily.

Bucky grimaced and mouthed 'fuck'. "I must've lost her. I am so sorry."

"Yeah… sure."

The phone rang.

"Hello?" he huffed.

"Hi, it's Natasha," said the person on the other side. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, I just had a bit of a mess. What's up?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Well, hopefully hanging out with you if you're offering."


End file.
